Sidecar (24 page)

That must have been Joe’s trigger, because his other hand, the one splayed on Casey’s back, pulled up into Casey’s hair and made a fist, and he closed his eyes, threw his head back, and growled as he came, their come mixing together in a
true
mess, all over their bodies.

Casey just lay on him and twitched for a few minutes, and Joe pulled his come-covered hand out from between them and smacked Casey lightly on the ass. Then he wrapped those great arms around Casey’s shoulders and hugged him so tight, Casey thought he might feel safe for the rest of his life.

Their breathing finally evened out, and Joe laughed softly with what breath he had. “Casey?”

“Hm?”

“Can we shower
now
?”

Casey chuckled weakly. “I dunno. Can you carry me to the shower?”

“Probably—but I might throw my back out, and then where would we be?”

Casey pushed himself up and then scooted—slimy cock and all—so he could lower his mouth to Joe’s for another kiss. “You’re not that old, you know.”

“I’m not today,” Joe said seriously, and Casey realized that now that Lynnie was gone, he really had no one.

“You know, my lease is almost up. I told Alvin I wouldn’t leave him in the lurch, but if we could give Alvin a place to stay, I could stay here.”

The hope in Joe’s eyes was hard to bear. “It’s a long commute,” he said, obviously trying hard to stomp on that plaintive note in his voice.

Casey shrugged. “There’s restaurants up here. I’ll get a job up here, go to school three days a week down there. It’s no big.” He remembered that arrogance he’d had six months ago and looked down, flushing. “That is, you know, if you don’t mind Alvin here. And you want me.”

That massive hand was in his hair again, pulling Casey gently back so they could look eye to eye. “Casey, I can not conceive of a world where I did not want you.”

Casey wrinkled his nose. “Have the Mormons been knocking on the door again?”

Joe blushed. “Lynnie used to give them rides to the house—she got really bored before she found a job her ex-boyfriend didn’t work at.”

Casey laughed a little. “God. I feel bad. I feel like I kicked her out—and she lent you her
car
!”

Joe grimaced. “Shower,” he said, because apparently there was no way to make that situation better. “Shower, and then breakfast.”

One of the cats had taken off when the sex began and now she jumped up on the bed and put a delicate paw on Joe’s shoulder and insinuated a wet pink nose between them to touch Casey’s cheek.

“And then?” Casey asked, scratching Nick on the head. Nick, always the loudest, purred and fluffed her long orange fur.

Joe’s hand came up and stroked the hair away from Casey’s face. “And then us,” he said. “Us. You and me. We can watch movies, we can talk. I’ve got some work on the house we can do together, like moving a phone line up here and other shit. We can make love. I’m sure the dogs will suck up some of your time. But we yelled at each other and then you left. If you’re coming back, I want to make sure it’s going to be for a while.”

Casey nodded soberly. Yes. Forever.

He wanted to say it then—hell, he was dying to say it for the rest of the weekend and for the next two years. But he didn’t. Joe may have said good-bye to Lynnie, but he hadn’t said good-bye to the idea of children, and Casey hated the thought of Joe ever giving up a dream for him. As much as he would sally forth like forever was what was in his mind, as much as he would hope, he wasn’t going to jinx this moment, this thing he was pretty sure they had, and tell Joe that he’d never be a father because Casey wasn’t going to budge.

“You’re going to have a hard time getting rid of me” was what he did say, and he said it lightly, and he said it to make Joe smile, because he didn’t want to think of a time or a place where he might ever have to leave this place again. This was his home, and Joe had made it his home, and Joe might have been the one complaining about being old, but Casey was starting to think that he was too old in his heart to ever want to give up home again.

T
HE
funeral had been on Thursday, and both of them had called in until Monday, so they really did have three days together.

Three easy days where nothing and everything happened. Three days where they fell asleep after having mind-blowing, achingly tender sex and woke up naked, tangled in each other’s arms. Three days where their time in between was spent working on the property or watching movies that Joe hadn’t wanted to see without Casey and Casey hadn’t been able to watch without a VCR.

Their conversation wasn’t always profound—but then, it hadn’t been when Casey was living there, either. It was ordinary, just like Joe, which was why every minute of it felt perfect and more perfect.

On Saturday morning, the brand-new phone next to the bed rang, and Casey was closest to it. He rolled over reluctantly and got it on the third ring, giving a happy grunt when Joe followed him and grabbed him around the waist, pulling his body back to the warm center of the bed. (They were on their third set of sheets by Saturday morning. This set was olive green. Casey liked it very much, but he wanted to put some navy trim on it.)

“’Llo,” he murmured, and he was actually relieved when he recognized the voice on the other end of the line.

“Casey? I’m sorry, honey, did I wake you?”

“No worries,” Casey mumbled, thinking that was always the stupidest question on the planet. Of course someone woke you if you sounded mostly asleep.

“Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t even know you were staying back with Joe. Good. I think he missed you.”

Casey blinked hard. “Yeah, I’m back for a couple of nights. Maybe longer at the end of the semester. How are you, Mrs. Daniels?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Just haven’t talked to Joe for a while. Wanted to know if he’s finalized his Christmas plans.”

Casey yawned. “I dunno.” They hadn’t talked about that yet. “Here, why don’t you ask him?” Casey rolled over a little. “Joe,” he muttered, “it’s your mom.”

He lay back down then, thinking he could probably fall asleep for another hour or so. They’d worked hard, clearing the foundation for the little mother-in-law cottage Joe was planning behind the chicken coop, and then they’d fucked solidly into the deep a.m. Casey figured they’d earned a nice lie-in this morning, as soon as Joe hung up the phone.

“Hey, Mom,” Joe said sleepily. “Yeah, Casey’s here. No, we’re in bed, why do you ask?”

Casey’s eyes shot open and his heart started pounding wonky in his ribs. He rolled over abruptly and saw Joe blinking, like he was maybe just now realizing what he’d said.

“Yeah, Mom,” Joe said, catching Casey’s eyes and grimacing. “Yeah, together.” He pressed his lips together. “Because sometimes I swing that way.” There was another pause, and Casey winced, because the squawking on the other end of the phone did
not
sound happy. “Yeah. I know he’s not just a ‘swing’, Mom. Why do you think he moved out?”

Joe actually sat up in bed and clutched the covers to his chest like a virgin girl. “No,
not
because I wanted it and he didn’t!”

Casey sat up in outrage and grabbed the phone before Joe could even protest again. “Mrs. Daniels? Yeah?”

“Casey?” Oh God, she was obviously upset. “Casey, you and Joe—”

“I’ve loved him since I’ve known him, Mrs. Daniels. He just finally stopped fighting.”

There was an absolute silence on the phone, and Casey felt like every pore of his body was breaking out in a sweat. “Mrs. Daniels?” he said hesitantly, and Joe shook his head and rolled his eyes, grabbing the phone back with a muttered “Give me that!”

“Mom?” he said, pulling his hair out of his face with one hand and shaking it down his back. “Mom? You, uhm….”

Finally, a quiet question. “Yeah, Mom. I know. I know what this means. Yeah, I’ll ask him. Bye.”

Joe handed the phone to Casey, who put it in the cradle without a word. Then Joe lay back down on his side and gestured imperiously for Casey to scoot in back against him, and Casey did. There was no question here who got to be the little spoon—Casey wasn’t going to argue. When he was tucked securely against Joe’s naked body, clutching Joe’s hand to his chest, he finally got up the courage to say something. “So?”

“So what?”

“What does it mean? That I’m here?”

“Well, Casey, I think it means we’re gay.”

Casey grunted and sat up again. “Well I know
I
am. God, Joe, don’t be dense. You just came out to your
mom
! What did ‘I know what this means’ actually
mean
?”

Joe sighed and sat up next to him. “She gets ‘gay’, Casey. I know we think of California as the Left Coast, but there is actually a fair amount of liberalism back where I’m from. And my parents belong to that branch of Quakers that are usually, by definition, tolerant. Their lives are about kindness and service and seeking the truth of God’s word.” Joe sounded glum. “It got them burned as witches a lot back in the day—all the shit the Puritans said was the work of Satan, the Quakers simply accepted as human.”

“So…,” Casey said, his heart so high up in his throat it was hard to swallow. “Your mom….”

“She’s happy for me because she knows I love you. If that love’s changed, well, she knows me. She knows it’s still love.”

“But what does ‘I know’ mean?”

Joe sighed. “Are you really going to make me state the obvious?” His brown eyes were mild, and accepting, and sad.

Casey felt his mouth wobble, which went with the chin quiver, which went with the fact that all of his muscles seemed to be wrapped around his throat. “Say it,” he whispered. “I want to hear you say it so it’s not between us ever again.” Of course it wasn’t that easy. But for the moment, he’d pretend.

“Fine,” Joe said, resting his face on his knees. His hair fell behind him, and not for the first time since Casey had seen this big, burly biker on a foothill back road, Casey saw past the mustache and the soul patch, saw beyond the hair, and saw a relatively young man, probably as vulnerable in his gentleness as Casey had been in his youth. “It means that you don’t have a functioning uterus, so we’re probably not going to have children.” Yeah. This was not going away, whether they talked it to death right now or not.

Casey suddenly felt that loss almost as keenly as Joe. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his eyes burning with real, sudden, unanticipated pain.

“That you fell in love with me? That you made it stick until I loved you back the same way? Don’t be.”

Casey nodded and wiped his face with the back of his hand, and was reassured when Joe reached out and grabbed it and squeezed. “Okay,” he said, lying badly, “I’m not sorry at all. What are you supposed to ask me?”

“If you’ll come with me back east for Christmas.”

Casey scooted over close enough to lean on him as they both sat up in bed, carefully not looking at each other, the blankets in their laps. “You’re going back east for Christmas?”

Joe shrugged and looked sheepish. “You weren’t going to be here,” he said gruffly. “And my mom could tell I was grieving. She actually just wired me the plane tickets and told me to make sure I had the time off work—that’s what the phone call was about. I didn’t really have a whole lot of choice in the matter.”

Casey just looked at him. “I have no money,” he said practically, “so it’s all you. Am I going?”

Joe reached out and smoothed the hair from his face, then cupped his cheek. “Are you?”

Casey nodded. Yeah. Yeah. No bullshit, no letting Joe pretend (as if Joe would!) that this was something he did in California but not at home. “I want official. I want Mom and Dad and family. I want to meet your brothers and sister and play with their kids. I don’t want a soul on the planet to doubt I’m yours. How’s that?”

Joe smiled a little. “Yeah. That’ll work.”

“Good.” Casey took his hand then and held it to his chest and tried to smile, but he couldn’t. It was huge. It was an amazing gift, and he wasn’t going to look it in the mouth. But he wasn’t going to forget this cost, either.

S
UNDAY
evening, Casey put on his slacks and dress shirt (which he’d freshened in Joe’s dryer) and a pair of underwear for the first time in three days. Joe put on his jeans and a button-up Hawaiian shirt, and Casey braided Joe’s hair back and made sure his soul patch and mustache were trimmed, feeling intimate and privileged as he did so. They went out to dinner at The Black Angus, and although neither of them were up to the scrutiny of holding hands, Joe kept his knees pressed against Casey’s the whole time.

They went to see
The Last of the Mohicans
next, and Casey ogled Hawkeye’s chest, and Joe ogled
both
leads, and finally, finally, Joe took Casey back to his crappy little dump in Roseville.

“You’ll ask him?” Joe said as they were parked outside the tiny duplex off Vernon Street, and Casey looked at him, sitting in the November dark.

“Alvin?”

“No, some other roommate!” Joe sounded unaccountably tense.

“About watching the house over Christmas, or about moving in after finals?”

“Both.”

Casey looked at him, but Joe was carefully looking outside the truck into the moonlight. “Yeah,” he promised, but something about Joe’s urgency bothered him. He went to say something, ask, find out why, but Joe beat him to it.

“You know,” Joe said, almost overly casual, “I lived alone in that house for almost a year before you came along. I had a few women there, a few men, parties every now and then—I was fine. I was. I loved the silence and the trees and the feeling of being all by myself. I actually thought of getting a dog of my own but thought that might be too much company, really. I liked it quiet. I liked being by myself.”

Joe turned to him, and something about the way his hair fell out of his braid and forward into his face made Casey see that vulnerable mouth, those even cheekbones, and remember that Joe had only been twenty-seven when he’d picked Casey up off the side of the road, and that thirty-three was really not that old.

“But not anymore?”

“You left,” Joe said softly, looking down at the steering wheel and picking at the vinyl cover with his fingers. “You left, and I thought I could hear my heartbeat in the house. If it wasn’t for the dogs, I could have heard it echoing in our little valley. I missed you. I missed you so badly it was like I couldn’t breathe. Like my heartbeat just expanded, squashed my lungs, stopped up my chest. I woke up in cold sweats, missing you. After Lynnie moved in, I woke her up four, five times, half-asleep, groggy as hell, asking her where you were, because you weren’t in your room.”